


Hacked

by Orionwilde



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Anorexia, Ballet, Drug Use, Drug-Induced Sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-07 19:38:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5468507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orionwilde/pseuds/Orionwilde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elliot Alderson has come to realise that some people just can't be hacked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> I really love this story and just wanted to share it! Let me know what you think!  
> -Orion

Elliot liked the way she cradled his neck while they fucked. Her hand laid on the nape of his neck never squeezing but applying just enough pressure to assure Elliot this was all real. That it wasn’t all in his head.

Her soft body was always forgiving as he pounded away his demons, her body arched, hard nipples brushing against his chest, her moans slurred against his neck. Their encounters always left Elliot with bite marks and hickeys that not even the collar of his shirt could hide. She kissed him roughly, pulling his lip between her teeth, sometimes even drawing blood. Curses fell from her lips like prayers as every thrust was driven home.

Elliot let out a low groan as her insides spasmed around him, the pulsation of her walls make it impossible for him to last much longer than her.  It felt good to touch her, to fuck her, to hear her moan. It was narcotic; primal.  

Elliot liked coming inside her, he knew he shouldn’t but there was something about coming inside a girl like this that felt wicked, wickeder because it supplied him with a high he’s never gotten from her before. She just throws her head back and takes it unaware of it all.

Elliot rolls of her as soon as he’s finished, basking in the post-coital high.  He kisses her shoulder, glistening with sweat. She lies beside him panting, caramel skin glowing, chest flushed pink, a just fucked wetness between her thighs…she’s beautiful.   She turns to Elliot, lips barely brushing, noses touching. Her chest is still heaving as she presses a swollen kiss to his lips.  She rubs her nose against his before rolling out of bed.

Elliot watches as she smooths down her rumpled curls. She looks like Venus emerging from the sea in slivers of 7 am light. Elliot notices his semen running down her thigh, she’s unbothered wiping it away before sliding her panties back on.

“You can stay” Elliot says unsure of her reaction. He’s never offered to let her stay, it was never their style. Not that they had a ‘style’, they fucked and didn’t talk outside of that.

She gives him a soft half smile, throwing on his crumpled black tee, absently shoving her shirt and bra into her bag.

“Stay”, he repeats as he watches her put her feet into her shoes.

She leans over the bed, her black hair tickling his bare chest. Her lips press against his, Elliot grips the back of her neck, working his tongue into her mouth. He secretly hopes this convinces her to stay. He wants nothing more than to stay in bed all day fucking her brains out and getting high.

She pulls away resting her forehead against his. “I’m not your girlfriend, Elliot. I’m your drug dealer.” 

 

“I’ll see you next week.” She tosses over her shoulder as she exits his apartment.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter two! Let me know what you think!  
> xx

She’s pretty. Terribly, hauntingly pretty. All thick black hair and long limbs.  Elliot hears her before he sees her. Coming up the stairs to his apartment, he hears the pounding on the door followed by her voice.

“Shayla, open the fucking door”, she growls pounding on the red door. It’s too early in the day to be pounding on people’s doors this loud but she doesn’t seem to care. She stops knocking on the door only to rifle through her purse for her phone. 

“I swear to fucking god.” She mutters holding the smart phone to her ear. She presses her free ear against Shayla’s door listening for any movement. Elliot feels awkward watching her through the rungs in the hand rail but he doesn’t know her well enough to go up to her.

“Shayla! I know you’re in there asshole, open up!” She picks up pounding on the door again.

Elliot’s met her in passing a few times. He tries to remember if Shayla introduced her as her cousin or her sister. She interests Elliot. In the handful of times he’s seen her, she’s never once spoken to him, not even when she stood in for Shayla during a drug deal. She just handed Elliot the suboxone, collected the cash and split.

Elliot doesn’t even know her name. He thinks he’s heard Shayla say it once, but he couldn’t be sure.

“Maia!” A neighbor yells standing in his door way.  “Stop with all the banging, it’s too early for that shit.”

The brunette drops her hand from the door, “Sorry Mr. Anderson, I just can’t get ahold of Shayla. Have you seen her?”

“No. Go home Maia,” The older man snaps before slamming his door shut.

“Prick” she grumbles fishing her phone out of her purse again. She stay silent as the phone rings. Elliot can see her eyes darting around the small corridor.  Irises the color of amber and feline-like.  One glance from those eyes could make your blood run cold.

“Shayla, are you serious right now?” She sounds exasperated while leaving her voice mail. “Your neighbors think I’m a psycho.  Just call me back so I know you aren’t dead.”

Dead.  Fuck.

“I know you’re watching me asshole.” Her tone is bored, the anger it once held has dissipated. Elliot flushes like a guilty child. He walks up the remaining stairs, gripping the straps of his backpack tightly.

“You’re uh…Anthony right?” She asks leaning against Shaya’s door.  Elliot can see the tension in her shoulders, she’s trying to seem casual but inside she’s still upset about Shayla.

“Elliot.”

“Right! Elliot, got a nasty little morphine habit right?”  Elliot thinks it’s almost comical how her body betrays her. Her tone is unbothered but her cheeks flush pink in embarrassment.

“Uh yeah” Elliot answers. Truth is Elliot has been morphine free for a couple of weeks now. Ever since he told Shayla he would stop. Before everything with Vera. Before Shayla-

“Hello?” She asks irritated.

Elliot looks down, “Sorry.”

“Have you seen Shayla?”

Here it is. He should tell the truth, get it over with. Rip the scab off the wound. But she’s looking at him, liquid amber eyes and soft pink lips.  “Nope”

“She’s your girlfriend…” Her dark brows pull together in confusion. He can practically see the wheels turning in her head. Shit. His brain short-circuited; those eyes.

“Haven’t seen her.”


End file.
